Choices
by InTheShadowOfSignificance
Summary: Sometimes Mad Mod does things just to prove he can. This means new life for a girl enveloped in stone, in which some things change and others never will. Twoshot, may continue.
1. Choices

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, nor do I claim rights to any of the affiliated characters.

Warnings/Notes: Please be advised that this piece is not meant to coincide with everything we've seen in the "Aftershock" episodes of season two, nor the series finale. It is a continuation meant to provide background on the character of "Laura," which Terra has chosen for herself.

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**Choices**

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It was a ceaseless, unbearable pain.

From the moment stone became flesh, she had no thoughts aside from the ache building steadily in her bones. Humanity came in flashes of ash and agony, restriction melting away into the soft sinew of ordinary people. Shock forced the first breath from her lungs, a sharp, choking inhale which carried a moan into the prison of stillness. She could hear her voice reverberating through the chasm of her catacomb, oozing life into her as the cries became louder, more desperate.

"No…" She pleaded, lifting a hand numbly to move a curtain of hair from her eyes. "This can't be…" The last of the earth relinquished its hold and she battled for coherency. Fawn feet and heart palpitations were making her an outsider in her own skin, an entity, once foreign, free again among the living.

She surrendered to the dizzying rush of consciousness. His name was on her lips, lingering on sharp tongue canvas with no master of the brush. The need to see him, all of them, overwhelmed her. She didn't know this place yet, not really. It was vaguely familiar in the same way their faces were as they passed through her mind, suddenly assigning colors to eyes, names to bodies. Jump City. The Titans. She swallowed thickly.

In the first few moments on the cold dirt she became aware of how deeply she yearned to be one with it again. She did not want to battle with sadness and anger, did not want to think about refusing to face them, even now, after all this time. How long had it been? She sat up a bit straighter. It didn't matter. She needed the world to be still and silent, needing everything to stop spinning so that she could forget what it felt like to hate herself.

Especially now, as her eyes began adjusting to the darkness and holding back tears, she was uncertain of where she would go or what she would do. The only thing she knew for sure was the need to be gone – to vanish – because nothing was ever _really_ going to fix things.

"Need a 'and me ducky?"

She shuddered involuntarily, trying stubbornly to work feeling into her tingling, uncooperative limbs. Just the thought of this man's presence was intrusive. She had not put two and two together to realize that he, and the jeweled cane he kept at his side, had freed her from life that was not life anymore. The only thing she cared about was getting out as fast as possible.

"Suit yourself." He snapped, his tone clipped and even as he turned to hurry off into the night.

"Wait!" She called out, gathering herself to her feet, searching for something to steady herself against. "Who are you? Where are you going?"

"Not important love." He called over his back to her, not even pausing for a second glance.

"It matters." She challenged determinedly.

"Not ta' me."

She forced herself forward a few steps, struggling for her balance as she did so. In the dim light of the outside world she could make out a tint of red. Was he possibly Starfire's father, her child now grown with kids of his own? How long, she wondered again, how long had she been sleeping, alive but not alive, existing in the way that does not move, not touch, nor affect anyone. "Then why did you…why did you…do this for me?"

"For you?" The laughter in his voice snaked its way under her skin, he had almost stopped to look back at her, "Mustn't ruffle our own feathers dearie," he chided, "I did it fa' me, because I could."

She clenched her fist in anger. He reminded her of Slade_. _Always condescending, always possessive without being loving, or compassionate, or positive, degrading her with pet names as if she were his – as if she were _anything_ to him.

"There's always a reason!" She pressed on hurriedly, catching the sleeve of his jacket in her hand, propelled forward by anger and curiosity.

"See 'ere!" He jabbed the cane into her stomach, glancing sideways at her without turned around until she had doubled over, fingers still loosely grazing the fabric of his clothes, "What grown people do is not a child's business, matter o' fact, this is no one's concern but me own. You run along now dearie before I really give you something ta' whine about."

She straightened up, recoiling from the sudden grasp of his hand over hers, "At least give me a name." She probed, "where you're going, something!" A sudden fear that the man might know Slade, or come across his body in the rubble and dust with an urge to bring it to life, wrapped itself around her.

"Name's Moddy." He sucked on his teeth in disgust, beating her eager hand to her face to brush blonde tresses behind her ear, "Going ta' the outskirts of town."

"I'm coming with you." She decided aloud, shocking even herself with the announcement. Then, because it seemed so foolish to say nothing more, "I've got nowhere else, no one else."

He pondered this for a moment, "I run a school of sorts." He posed, "You'd be attendin' lovey, I can assure ya that."

Her elder had closed the gap between them a few long moments ago, but the impact shook her to the core now. All at once she was consumed by dark eyes resembling Slade's, by a creeping sense of ownership, almost like a father's. She wanted to recant, but if she went with him…maybe he would take her far away, keep her hidden, make it impossible to know them again, or anyone else in Jump City. She swallowed nervously, weighing the need to hide with the need for independence.

"Mustn't keep the teacher waitin' poppet." She hated him.

Blue eyes met brown in the stillness of nightfall as she opened her mouth to reply, "Whatever you say, I guess."

But most of all, she hated herself.

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Author's Note: The "skeleton" of a story I will probably make more in depth later. At this point I had just watched "Aftershock" for the first time in years and was compelled by the idea. Call me crazy…or a Moddy fangirl, because I am.


	2. Who We Are

**Who We Are**

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Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, nor do I claim rights to any of the affiliated characters.

Warnings/Notes: Please be advised that this piece is not meant to coincide with everything we've seen in the "Aftershock" episodes of season two, nor the series finale. It is a continuation meant to provide background on the character of "Laura," which Terra has chosen for herself.

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It was a mindless journey from one shaded stretch of earth to another, the latter a surprisingly lavish Dutch colonial on six acres of scattered forest.

She was ushered into a plain room with antique looking furniture. The thought of being in someone's home was sickeningly surreal, every picture of his smiling face pushing her closer to a breaking point. Decorations on the bedside table, even the patchwork quilt on the bed made her uneasy, dwelling with Slade had been effortless compared to this, but then, with Slade, there had been no luxuries in warm beds and oak end tables, no indication that there was someone in there, beyond the mask, at all. As much as she hated to admit it, she had liked it that way. She crossed the room, fumbled with a picture of sunflowers on the wall, and tossed it gracelessly into a dresser drawer. She wanted to take company with this man, but she did not want to know him.

Swallowing thickly she made a turn around the room. Over and over she walked its length, trying to find some sense of peace or belonging, instead she found herself falling further and further into reminiscence. She paced the floor, instinctively keeping a rhythm to gather composure. She hated this habit more than anything – not because it was counterproductive – but because it reminded her of _him_. She clenched a fist. In an effort to find reprieve from her swarming thoughts, her feet took her again about the room, and to put as much distance between the likeness of her habit and Slade's, she threw her arms up into the air, spun in a clumsy circle, dancing into the stillness. Before she knew it she was completely weightless, the movements coming languidly until she felt faint vibration in the ground beneath her.

"Why?" She had stopped, fallen down onto the bed in a dizzying rush of relief and anxiety. Consumed by the changes in her body, stone to flesh, frozen to flexible, she had managed to momentarily forget everything. It had not mattered, in that moment, she had could move the earth with her thoughts, sometimes without them. But…she swallowed her tears…some things were unavoidable.

"If it's help you're wantin' lovey." He crossed the room in three strides and clasped a wooden, bangle-like bracelet around her upturned wrist, "All you 'ave to do is ask for it."

She jerked her arm back in shock, "What did you do?" She demanded, leaping from the bed as soon as instinct would allow. She saw green eyes, felt the earth between her fingers as she held it helplessly above Beast Boy's head. _"It's never too late to change." _

"Back talkin' the teacher gets the student nowhere, love. You 'ad a problem 'n I took care of it-"

"I changed my mind." She ripped at the bracelet with her opposite hand, clawing wildly at it in an attempt to pry it from her skin.

"Changed your mind, eh?" A bony hand found her arm and turned her forcibly around to face him, the other lifting her chin to meet his looming gaze, "So dearie, what you're sayin' is you want ta' contend with powers you never asked for, that you've never been able to control," he slid the bracelet effortlessly over her hand, against her palm and along her fingers, bringing a surge of power and nausea over her trembling form, "when you could be free of it, forever?" He slid the device in place again, drawing the weight of the earth from her veins once more.

"I never wanted this." She chewed her bottom lip, struggling with the painful lump that had formed in the back of her throat.

"I know." His hand moved from the bracelet to the top of her head, stroking her blonde hair reassuringly. She had meant accepting his offer, not his magic wrist band.

"I don't know why you're doing this." She pulled away from the hand under her chin, "Thank you," she forced herself to add, "but I…want to go home." He chuckled, his hands abandoning her as he took a pace backward.

"Home to where?" He questioned with laughter in his eyes. She met his gaze because she could not afford for him to see her in shambles, because she did not want to give him anymore power over her and her secrets. 'You don't know?" He added.

"I don't care." She cut in before he could continue the game, "Anywhere but here. Who I am, what I am, has nothing to do with you. I just need to start over somewhere I can forget about all this."

Again he smiled knowingly down at her, in the same mocking, oddly adult way Slade used to. She had never felt so young or naïve before, however, even in her old master's presence, "Not the brightest bulb in the box, are we love?" He fished a cigarette from his pocket and crossed the room for a lighter he had set on the dresser when he'd come in, "You were born this way. I could forget my name, my accomplishments, my age, doesn't mean I've lost my identity. You can forget everything about yourself and you will still be every bit the same person, with the same ability."

"Okay." She surrendered, "I can't run away from who I am, but I want to face this on my own. She took a step toward the door, hoping to push passed him, "That's the end of it."

He gestured to the door with his free hand, moving out of her way as he took a long drag from the cigarette, "Go on then girl, but don't be cryin' ova' the loss You tried already on your own din't ya?." She crossed the threshold of the doorway into the hall, nearly tripping over a runner she had not noticed on her way in. He was right, but she wouldn't allow him to call her on her bluff. Just because she was afraid, and just because she couldn't suppress her powers alone, did not mean she would stay here. He reclaimed the device that had tempted her with freedom, and as the rush of uneasiness consumed her, she posed one final question.

"If you really want to help, why not show me? Why not give it to me?" He laughed, unmoving.

"Not exactly good business is it? I give you an answer from a lifetime of research and you walk out free of charge? You're mad."

"Before it was kindness, now it's business? Talk straight." With the door in sight, and no looming control to contend with, she was feeling especially bold.

"It's always been both darlin', n' I neva' hid it from ya, told you from the beginning you'd be attendin' school and doin' things my way."

"That's still not an answer." She challenged, "You never told me what you wanted."

"You," he replied plainly, stepping into the hall. She felt herself shudder in disgust.

"I'm not yours." She spat, to Slade's face in her head more than Mod's in front of her eyes.

"But you could be." At the snap of his fingers a projector came down from the ceiling, flashing through pictures of her in school uniform, at the end of a long table, him across from her, eating supper.

"No." She squeezed her eyes shut, "I don't need a keeper."

"Not a keeper love." He sensed a chance for the upper hand and moved forward, closing the gap between them, "A mentor. I need someone to pass my knowledge onto, all of this." He gestured to the house, and the property beyond which held his school of machines.

"It's the same th-"

"No." He cut in sternly, "it's not." He took another drag from the cigarette to calm himself, "You asked me to show you love." He spoke again, a bony hand resting now on her shoulder, gently, coaxingly, "Why run off all alone, when I could show you everything?"

She was not entirely accustomed to the sensation of being human, it had begun to overwhelm her even before she had fully realized what was happening. In a rush of nostalgia she understood how desperately she both needed to be alone, away from titans and tyrants alike, and, at the same time, wanted with every inkling of humanity, to be close to someone. To need someone and be needed by someone, to matter rather than to exist, and to fix what she had been in past years by being someone new. Despite what Moddy had said, she still believed she could start over new.

"Tell me what I have to do."

"Terra." It was the first time he had used her name, and she shuddered even against his hand on her shoulder, which squeezed comfortingly, feeling every second of it. "All you have to do is be a normal little girl." The wood fit snug over her wrist again, and he took both of them in his hands, coming around to face her, "I'll teach you what you need to know, in time."

She fought for her strength, the decision feeling neither right nor wrong in the moment, as she took in his dark eyes and the smell of ash on his breath, "Please don't call me that." Because she could think of nothing better to say.

"It's your name isn't it?"

"I hate it." She swallowed, directing her gaze to their feet, "I hate everything about it."

"Easy darlin,'" his hand slid under her chin again, bringing her eyes to his level. He looked down at her in contemplation for a moment, "Moddy can fix everything, but, ah, first rule of sorts, look at me when I'm speaking to you." She nodded against his hand, fighting the instinct to move away. "My mother's name was Laura." He declared after a moment's silence.

Sadness overcame her, forcing tears behind her eyes before she could blink them away. She did not know whether to pity the lonely man, or to feel deceived by an odd coincidence, "Mine was too." She replied in a whisper, and as her voice broke, he pulled her against his body, shushing softly.

She battled with her wavering trust of the man as his strong arms took her into the bedroom, onto the soft linens where he left her; she did not know whether to feel parentally guided of predatorily owned as he stood, back to her, in the doorway. She only knew the weight of her exhaustion has called out his goodnight, and she fell asleep to the image of wooden letters on the wall behind her bed.

L. A. U. R. A.

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What do you think, leave it as a two-shot or continue? Mod is my muse, so either way I'll be happy to please :P


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